rhymes

Braised

 

Seems old-fashioned to braise

And none of the below

Make me reappraise

This thought. In fact

I’m not even sure on looking

What kind of cooking

Braising actually involves

 

Turnips: Braised and Glazed

Braised Celery – not a felony

Braised Fennel in Meat Juices with Cheese, if you please

Braised Stuffed Trotters, not a lotta demand (surely?)

Ladies and Gentlemen may I present: Braised Tongue with Madeira Sauce, why of course!

Braised Witlof, I shit not

braising

meat

vegetables

Brandied Cumquats… oops I went too far.

 

I’m doing National/Global Poetry Writing Month (NaPoWriMo / GloPoWriMo) – write one poem, per day throughout April. Today’s prompt/challenge was to write an “ index poem” using found language from an actual index (or you could invent an index, like in this kickarse poem by Thomas Brendler they gave as an example). I used found words from the index of one of my favourite Australian classic cookbooks, Stephanie Alexander, The Cook’s Companion. AND YES I KNOW MY OVEN IS FILTHY!! 

Morning song

Beardsley-inspired ink poster by Steven Huntington from www.behance.net/gallery/7198651/Aubrey-Beardsley-Poster

 

Soft, stilldark early morning

birds’ small, individual rounds

chirping, tweeting, calling

create a wall of nature-sound

 

The trams surging up Schaffhauserstrasse

juddering scrape, metal wheels on rails

a sibilant symphony: electric power

near-majestic, benign strength prevails

 

Church bells bong quarterly

soundwaves hanging in the air

on the hour a vortex: echo-vibration, stereolocation

you almost see it shimmering there

 

The planes: further away, their churn

high-up, unmistakable

as toward tarmac or clouds they kern

ripping the sky, rippling by

 

My baby lets out a cry: 5am

down the hall in his room

he snuffles, goes quiet again

I don’t get up… but soon

 

Traffic noise, a distant soundtrack

underpins cities like cement

no one drives up our street yet

Still: the neverending improvement

 

The soft crunch of my duvet

as I stretch my legs in the warm bed

can’t sleep now should I choose it

I think about Sydney instead

 

I’m doing National/Global Poetry Writing Month (NaPoWriMo / GloPoWriMo) – write one poem, per day throughout April. Today’s prompt/challenge was to write a poem in which you closely describe an object or place, and then end with a much more abstract line that doesn’t seemingly have anything to do with that object or place, but which, of course, really does.

Hairy McClairey

This summer I could grow my hair

Shaggy pits, fuzzy pins and spider-legs down there

Show the kids what a real woman looks like

But the idea fills me with fright

Because of so many cultural tunes

And tho I wish myself immune,

There’s all this baggage in body follicles

Where smooth implies wherewithal

To deal with life: as woman and mother dear

While hairy says I’M NOT COPING, I fear

It shouldn’t be such a big deal

Yet, to me, the struggle is real

And I wish I was braver, to ditch the shaver…

Shallow, vain or just being ‘normal’?

Ugh! Even writing all this feels awful.

 

I’m doing National/Global Poetry Writing Month (NaPoWriMo / GloPoWriMo) – write one poem, per day throughout April. Today’s prompt/challenge was to write a poem that includes a line you’re afraid to write. I’m not sure there’s one line here but the subject matter is something I’ve often wanted to write about but have felt uncomfortable with, so I guess I’m facing that fear! Not my best poem but perhaps a good challenge nonetheless.  

Teeth: a family portrait

teeth

The new one’s teeth are new

Only seven have come through

His little cheeks so red today

I think another’s on its way

 

The big one’s choppers have no caries

But soon he’ll lose them all to fairies

I’ll be sad to see them go

He’s growing up so fast, you know

 

My fangs have recently been cleaned

The nurse was brutal and it seemed

far too painful – I was sore

So now I brush better than before

 

Himself’s pearlies gleam — no worries

Despite the years and years of durries.

Since it’s passed by DNA

I hope the boys’ genes went his way

 

There’s something so lovely about mouths

And the chunks of calcium in ours

might not look like Hollywood

Yet the smiles are very good

 

I’m giving National/Global Poetry Writing Month (NaPoWriMo / GloPoWriMo) a go – write one poem, per day throughout April. Today’s prompt/challenge was to do a family portrait in poetry. I wanted to write about teeth anyway so it seemed to fit nicely.